Tales of Steam and Sorcery:

Countless centuries ago, a mighty empire was founded. Lead by ambitious and wise leaders, blessed with bountiful resources and fertile land, it quickly grew; expanding its borders, conquering its enemies and eventually unifying the entire continent under the rule of a single emperor.

As its resources started to thin, the empire set sail, to conquer the seas and lands unknown. 500 years ago, the empire expanded its borders to two near-by islands, and christened them Circium and Anilix when its colonists arrived. Circium, a large island with lush forests, was found to be "naturally enchanted" and it bestowed a powerful affinity for magic on all who were born there. And on Anilix, a small, hot, rugged island, new and valuable materials were found in abundance; coal, iron and numerous other metals and minerals boosted the empire's productivity and allowed for technological advances.

For generations, the empire exploited its colonists, coercing young Circites to come back to the mainland and join with the Imperial Mages Guild, an often limiting and fruitless career as the lapdog of a noble, and "volunteering" numerous citizens to works as miners on Anilix, long and dangerous work that paid pittance.

When the miners started to protest, the empire responded with force and oppression. But the fight soon grew, and the empire's soldiers on Anilix began to thin, so the empire made a decision; pit one colony against the other. When "recruiting" simply wasn't getting the numbers the emperor wanted, he had people abducted off the streets and pressed into service. Circium finally rebelled when the empire started appropriating children as well.

With both colonies united, the empire found itself stretched thin, and the colonial forces stormed the capitol within a century. Several commando strike-teams penetrated the Imperial Fortress, the first commoners to see the inside practically since its construction, and just two young soldiers, one Circite and one Anilixian, stormed the throne room and killed the emperor, ending the Rebellion with a decisive victory.

The two colonies amicably split the Old Empire's holdings evenly between the two of them as they expanded their borders to the mainland, but as the centuries passed and the camaraderie of the Rebellion wore off, the two nations grew cold to one-another, and eventually, prejudice and hate was bread between the two populations.

Now the two peoples, once united by a common foe, seem determined to make a new foe out of each other, as they become locked in a Cold War and a vicious cycle of reactionary policies, blind to the promising ideals of unity born from the towns of the Border, and increasingly unaware of a terrible threat that lurk in the shadows, eagerly awaiting the right moment to strike...

"Warren!" She shouted, channelling more and more energy into the spell she had cast. She heard the young man tinkering away anxiously with his device, trying desperately to get it to work.

"I'm hurrying! I'm hurrying!" He shouted back, sweating bullets and his mind raced through the schematics he'd drawn up barely a month ago. "It should be working! I don't understand!"

Her hand were thrust forward, a thick beam of dark purple Arcane Energy streaming out of each one, forming a solid wall that kept a being of terrible power trapped and immobile... Or so she hoped. "Well hurry faster!" She screamed, feeling the strain quickly wearing away her endurance. Her eyes went wide n horror and she saw cracks form the Arcane Wall she was projecting. She was putting everything she had into the spell — no-one should be able to break it! Not so soon!

"I've got it! I've got it! Circe, I've got it!" He said, excitedly, as the man-sized cannon made a series of loud clunking noises. "Then fire!" She screamed, her breath ragged. She saw a hand pressing up against the last few layers of the Wall, creating more and more cracks throughout it. "Fire! Fire! FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, WARREN, SHOOT!"

She wasn't sure what happened next, exactly, but she quickly found herself on the floor, her ears ringing, her lungs and eyes stinging, and her whole body hurting. She coughed and slowly sat up, trying in vain to see through the thick cloud of smoke that had filled the room. "Warren?" She coughed, trying to wave the smoke away. "Warren? You there?"

She felt a cold breath on the back of her neck, and a terrible voice whispered in her ear. " Did you really think it would be that easy? "

Acetus, Circite Capitol. Day 1, early morning

Circe Aentus awoke with a start and immediately sat up. Oh... She thought, with a sigh of relief. Just a dream... She reluctantly crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, tossing her nightgown - drenched in a cold sweat - aside to be washed later. So it's going to be one of THOSE days, is it? She thought bitterly. What else is new?

Weist town, Border. Day 1, morning

"Rebecca! Rebecca!" He shouted, dashing through the near-deserted streets of the little town. It was one of the largest on the Border, but compared to Acetus or Takei, it was tiny. Weston Centrich, 16-year-old inventor, mechanic and idealist extraordinaire, skidded to a halt in front of his friend's house and started pounding on the door. "Come on! Come on! I know you're in there!" He said, eagerly. "I think I've done it, this time! I know it!" This was not the first time he'd come pounding on her door in the wee hours of the morning, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Rebecca! Come on! Wake up! Selia's waiting!" He said. Were he any younger, he would be jumping up and down. As it was, he was fidgeting quite a bit just waiting for her. Given that Rebecca Weistrand had been inventing this sort of thing much longer than he had, he looked to her as a sort of mentor, and she sometimes found him inadvertently repeating steps she had already taken in the past. Nevertheless, his creations were often intuitive, if a bit unusual, at times.

A few minutes away from this scene a man in a dirty trenchcoat walked, his boots stamping about in the grass. His only real eye observed a couple farmhands to his right, while his fake eye looked forward at a ridge. His spindly iron limbs kept him moving along the trail, and upon his shoulders rested the straps for a couple bags he was carrying. His head was adorned with a beaten top hat, and almost all of his face was covered by the grey mask and white scarf he wore. This man was Dr. Elios Dyson, associate member of the Bureau of Research Into Further Advancement of The Automated Body.

Along with him sputtered along the Dyson Grand Brass Automated Mule. It looked more like a barrel with wheels than an animal, however. A small smokestack attached to its end puffed out a cloud every few seconds, and a couple of oil cans clanged around at its side.

"My first assignment and they send me out to Hicktown," the doctor grumbled. "Shows how much they want me to be a part of this, it seems. 'Go forth and spend some time researching how the Borderites make their prosthetics', they said. 'It'll be something you can do to broaden your views,' they said."

With that said, the man reached the crest of the hill. The town of Weist was displayed in all of its quaintness before him. He spent a few moments observing the town, and opened up his scarf to breath in the summer air. "Fresh," he thought, "A nice, breathable air for once." He put the scarf back on and continued towards town.

Mr. Atrappus woke up to his timed gramophone, an invention of his own, slapping onto a record and blaring music into his room above Mr. and Mrs. Sanderssen's Fine Foods—Neutral Grounds, No Philosophical Debates Allowed Herein. Also to the sound of a man dragging his armor, all gleaming steel and pipes of steam, across the floor, having realized it was much heavier than it appeared. Well, no rest for justice. Or at least no comfortable awakening for justice.

Ferrus A. Atrappus' target was running, silly as it seemed. Ferrus wasn't even dressed, but the enterprising man was apparently intent on trying to steal his rig while he slept! He pulled himself out of bed as he tried to shake the horrible clanking dreams to let in room for the horrible clanking noises of an idiotic thug dragging the suit of magnificent powered armor from his room. Ferrus reached for his sword with a grunt and pointed it at the guy. "Gimme a sec. A—a second."

Climbing out of bed, Ferrus stretched—still pointing the sword at the stupefied thief. "Now, you're going to put the suit back, I'm going to puncture one of your lungs, and you're going to see a medical professional."

Upon the man's inevitable continuation of his alacritous escape, Ferrus squeezed the handle of his sword. A springloaded contraption contained within launched the tip out on a long wire, the tip expanding into a claw and attaching to the man's chest with a deafening yelp and even more deafening smash as he dropped the armor. Ferrus' deceptively muscled arms yanked the armorjacker towards him, then smashed into the thief's face, dislodging the grappling hook. "Run along."

A few minutes later, Ferrus was dressed in his overalls, eating bacon and eggs downstairs with a few of the other regulars, oblivious to the stares of the proprietors or the bit of blood on his knuckles. "Excellent eggs, as always, Nathan. Hard to believe your dad was a bomb arsonist if you can make something this good."

Ferrus stared out the window of the restaurant into the streets of Weist Town, a new day dawning. And absolutely no idea how he was going to spend it.

A sullen man in a gray coat stands outside the cheap inn where he spent the night, consulting a map to estimate how much longer this trip is going to take. He's only a few towns away from his destination, but he thinks he'll stay in Weist for another day. A little rest never hurt anybody, and the substitute doctor he found was a decent fellow, so he's guilt free.

Dr. Friedrich Ritter takes a swig from his flask of whiskey and fingers his pair of wooden dice. He wasn't normally superstitious, but having them in his pocket made him feel a little more secure for some reason.

How was he to entertain himself today? Perhaps he could find some young'un to annoy. Friedrich puts away the map and wanders the streets and watching the others closely.

Niel Sirsbin sat on a mossy gray rock, intensely meditating. All around him, water flowed, cascading over the waterfall behind him and going to who-knows-where. The sun was beginning to rise over the tall cliff-side, letting light flood the land like an orange ocean. Though it was just beginning to turn dawn, Niel had been awake for hours - and he didn't feel the slightest bit tired. If one were to squint at Niel, they would see a slight flicker of energy escaping from him - just a tiny sliver of magic, a distortion in the air. Niel clenched his fists, calling on his magic. In a few short seconds, a wind leaped to life, reaching through the air and snatching a few leaves down from the many trees of Circium.

Niel had never been much good at anything but wind magic - everything else always seemed to go wrong. Fire would leap back at him, ice nearly froze him solid, and once he'd even gotten a static shock after trying to create electricity. No, it was much safer for him to stick with wind. It was like a friend to Niel. Comforting. Much like being alone. Niel had always been a bit of a social outcast. It wasn't that he had nothing to say; that was far from the truth. However, Niel just didn't like being around other people. It had gotten even worse when he had gotten the hang of just one element when everyone else had learned multiple.

A leaf floated down towards the rock, where Niel caught it, and intently studied it. Leaf-reading was not recognized as an actual magical art. Most people doubted it worked. But still, Niel figured that if you couldn't prove it false, it still had a chance of being true. According to the lines on the leaf in addition to its color, today would be very eventful. What the leaf did not predict was that a strong wind would make Niel fall into the river, which was exactly what happened one second later.

Niel quickly climbed out of the river, spitting fresh water out of his mouth. It was pure, almost sweet. Not like the technology-covered Anilix - Niel doubted any water there would taste very good. Rumors floated around, telling tales about Anilix and its people. None of the stories were very pleasant. Apparently the people there were half-machine. Like monsters. Niel shuddered at the thought of living in Anilix. Despite all of his troubles, he was at least given the pleasure of living on Circium.

Niel ran a hand through his now-sopping wet hair. It was hard to tell if he got any mud in it, considering it was dark brown in color. Luckily, his hair seemed clean. Does falling in a river count as 'eventful'? Niel wondered, beginning to set off towards Weist Town, which was at the border. I wonder... how will the rest of this day go?

edited 21st Jun '12 3:30:20 PM by Collen

Gave them our reactions, our explosions, all that was oursFor graphs of passion and charts of stars...

I am one among many, part of an endless, undifferentiated sea. Only through service may my soul be redeemed, but only slightly. Though I walk the path of the holy, I am still not better, no more righteous, and no stronger than my fellow man. I am only more useful. Oh Heaven above...

Kneeling before the wood-cut icons of the major Gods, the only decoration in his chambers, Gabriel Luciani began to pray. Thirty minutes of supplication for favor later, Gabriel slowly stood. In a stone basin, he washed his face and shaved, washed his hands to cleanse himself, and then exited.

As he made his way through the streets of Acetus, his eyes were drawn, as was probably the intention, to the gargantuan monolith that was the Ivory Tower. Put-off, Gabriel turned his eyes away. It was too ostentatious for his tastes, but he had no reason to place himself higher than the tower and what it represented, only because he saw himself as lower. Paradoxes of humility were best avoided.

Gabriel's office was decorated similarly to his room, which was to say, it was not at all. After sitting down at his desk, Gabriel began addressing his workload. He had absolutely no qualms with being relegated to paper-pushing. Glory in the front-lines was an excuse for braggarts to flaunt their superiority. They could do as much with measuring tapes. And here, anyways, he could serve Heaven better. There was a state to maintain, after all, and it wouldn't maintain itself if the military wasn't vigilant.

Ferruccio had been sent off to get supplies, though he could barely remember what they were. Food mostly. Maybe ammo if he could find it but they weren't really in danger of being attacked.

Otherwise, it was essentially the last thing to do before he was on leave. Not that it was a big deal, being the town militia it was more being paid a little bit of cash to sit around in a watchtower pretending to work on the condition that when war happened, they'd put up some token resistance first.

The new recruit was with him, Ferrucio couldn't be bothered remember his name. Essentially he was getting his start filling in Ferrucio's old boots.

He approached the entrance of the border town, rifle over his shoulder. He couldn't really think of the name now that he'd arrived. West? No, it'd normally have a suffix after, wouldn't it? Waist? That's just odd. Welst? Maybe. It was something with a an -st sound. Probably a W.

Doesn't really matter, he concluded.

With that thought, he headed towards the center of the town. The recruit was a bit behind but he had his own list and the two were only to meet up again once they'd grabbed everything so Ferrucio didn't need to wait on him.

Right, Ferruccio thought, A list. I have one too.

Padding himself down, he found a list with a few items scrawled out on it. Mostly good. It'd take him about half an hour and he had 4 to burn before they were supporsed to meet up.

In a dark room filled with the odd shapes of a myriad of inventions in various stages of completion, numerous blackboards and as many bookshelves as the room could fit both comfortably and esthetically, a figure was roused from sleep by the cries of a familiar voice.

When stuck by inspiration, Rebecca Weistrand would work deep into the night until she either collapsed from exhaustion halfway through or she finished her work... after the which she too collapsed into a deep sleep. In the first case, she would wake up in a dismal mood born out of frustration and the desire keep working. In the later case, she would work with a warm feeling of both satisfaction and fulfillment.

Today, to Weston's good fortune, the later case came to happen as Rebecca lazily opened her eyes to see the brass colored metal sphere lying in the desk in front of her. A small smile formed in her lips as she let out a loud yawn and stretched in her seat. Today would be a good day.

Rebecca then grabbed at what appeared to be a brass colored horn connected through a tub to the wall and brought it near her mouth to speak as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes "I'm here alright... and now I'm awake as well, dear Weston. Now give a lady five... maybe ten minutes to make herself slightly presentable. Quietly, otherwise my neighbors will kill you... all two of them"

As she spoke she knew that her voice would be coming out of a similar horn stuck to the side of the entrance to her home. With Weston hopefully placated for the moment, Rebecca stood up and wandered up to a water basin to clean her face and hands. Turning a series of valves made water to come from a few pipes... and whispering a few lazy words to a gem on top of the basin caused a soft glow to make the water as pure as that of a fresh spring. Changing into a fresh outfit she put on comfortable trousers, a light shirt and her trusty long jacket, whose pockets were filled with all sorts of devices and magical apparatuses. She then quickly brushed her hair and grabbed a new pair of goggles to put on her head. Finally, she grabbed her latest invention, put it in an specially designed tube with a handle to carry it around and walked over at her entrance... opening her door to find her dear part time disciple, full time friend fidgeting as he waited for her.

"Alright, I'm here now Weston. What did you do this time?" She asked with a grin as she closed the door to her workshop/house behind her.

The lavish playboy turned to his diminutive assistant, giving him his trademark winning smile.

"Ah, yes indeed, sir. It is uh most relatively a good day indeed."

"I swear, this world is not ready. But I shall make it ready. Revolution. I eat, sleep, breathe revolution. Change. The Border will be the first to witness a very great day. It won't know what hit it."

There were many workers, assistants, and field men, putting touches on a large stage right in the middle of one of the Border's most populated areas. It wasn't a surprise that Caleb Hillford was preparing another one of his extreme showcases. Some new invention would be displayed to the public for the first time, and Caleb would once again shower in the praise and accolades, followed by grant money, and then attractive women wanting to be his arm candy. It's a living.

But this was a little different. Yes, Caleb did have a new invention to give to the world. One that would surely blow them away. But he also had an announcement. An announcement that would change the world, forever.

Thwip! The arrow sailed straight into the middle of the target, 300 yards away, cleanly and smoothly. Around it was a loose group of arrows, never deviating far from the middle. The target was one of many in the field outside Weiss town. Other targets were.. different. One was scorched with flames, another was covered in a net, and a third didn't have an arrow in it at all, but it did have a hole. Ganbattar smiled thinly, his eyes glinting with pride. "Not bad... I'm almost ready. Maybe I am ready.. What do you think, Mori?" He gestured to the small chestnut colored horse next to him. The horse just snorts. "I know, I know.. not as good as it could be.. Heh.. I know you can't talk, but it sure seems like you can understand me sometimes." The horse nudges his hand, and Ganbattar emits a laugh. "Alright, alright, you figured it out." He fishes an apple out of his pocket and hands it to the horse. "Your treat. Now come on, let's go clean up." The two set off towards the targets, ready for the coming day.. and its challenges.

Weist Town- Laughing Hog Inn and Tavern - Morning

"Morning Sally, how're the kids?" Ganbattar opens the door to the tavern wide. There are an UNUSAL amount of people there... Usually the place doesn't even get near half full, but even during breakfast, the tavern is crowded. People cover every table and chair. "Huh..." He walks up to the bar, which for once is NOT spotless and clean. The large number of people seem to have made cleaning even the simple stuff much harder. the conversation was nearly deafening, everyone talking about different things... He gestures to the young lady staffing the bar. "Jenny, where's yer mom? The place is packed, thought she'd be working up here." The woman looks up for a brief moment. "I can't talk right now... Coming, sir!" The woman says before rushing off to the other end, drink in hand. "Mm.. I guess something's happening today.. Too many people.. agh, I need some peace and quiet.." Ganbattar sighs, and marches down one of the long hallways, away from the people and noise. Leaving the messy tables of the main tavern to head down to his room. He opens the door, revealing a fairly clean room. Though it may look clean to the casual viewer, closer inspection might make one realize this isn't because he has good habits. The sheets are everywhere, the closet is open, and who knows where the pillows went.. No, it seems to be more just because there's hardly anything IN the room. No clothes, no nifty little gadgets or books.. Nothing a typical traveler would have.. Ganbattar sets his bow down on the bed and begins unstringing it, carefully removing and loosening the taut cord. "Today's going to be the big day.. I hope it all goes well.." He sighs, and continues his work.. "It's time to find out just how good he is.."

"Didja hear? There's apparently a new vigilante in town. Rides a dread pony and fires arrows." Ferrus overheard this snippet of conversation over the last of his bacon, ears perking up. So, there was another crusader of justice in town. Hopefully not Circite scum, perhaps an Anilixian who had patented a new autocrossbow. Now there was a purpose for today, someone to tail! All he had to do would be to lure the archer out into the open. An accomplice would be needed, someone to get robbed while he waited, fully armored up and ready to pursue his new ally or enemy. He headed up to his room to don his armor for the day.

A young man in white robes stops, his long red hair settling down behind him.

"Of course"

He smiles broadly and holds up his right palm glowing red towards the old woman's tea cup, and quickly bubbles form on the surface.

"Thank you Seraphim."

Without a word the man turns, and heads towards another part of the hospital.

Every time I pass through that ward it seems I get bombarded with petty favors. It's sweet to see the elderly's reaction, but it's sad to see them confined like that. Most of them can hardly move without the spells that permeate that room

He sighs out loud, drawing the attention of a few patients as he goes to enter the next room.

I suppose I should be happy I even landed this job in the first place, at least I get to practice my magic some.

He enters a room where a small line of people had formed, almost reaching the door and out onto the streets of Acetus.

"My daughter slipped and fell, and we think she might have...."

The rather tedious tasks begins as Seraphim heals random cuts and scrapes people had acquired along the road, as he refers others to other wards for treatment. His mind wanders as he slips into the task, the cycle of listen, heal, clean up repeats itself countless times.

I hope I really can do more in life than this.

His hand glows blue, relaxing a baby so he can better examine it.

Sure it pays ok and I'm still here, but it hardly qualifies as something I want do all my life.

He gestures towards the part of the hospital dedicated to dermatology.

It's not that this isn't ok, I get to practice my healing magic and everything, but this is hardly what I intend to do with the rest of my life. I'd like to do more than sit here working petty magic.

Seraphim almost laughs, his last case before break is simply some kid who tore the seat of his pants. He tries not to smile as his hand glows and the fabric weaves itself back together.

Eagerly awaiting his friend, Weston tried his hardest to stand still while Rebecca cleaned up and got ready. He started intently at the door for a good five minutes, silently willing her to go faster, before he started fidgeting again. "Come on, come on..." He murmured, as he waited for her. "Oh! There you are!" He said, with a wide grin crossing his face as she opened the door. "I was starting to think you'd gone back to sleep! This way - you're going to love this! And it'll work, this time! I'm sure of it!" This was not the first time he'd made such a statement, and it was not about to be the last.

He dashed off in the direction of own town, just a ten minute walk from Weist Town and an even shorter run. He barrelled into his workshop, almost tripping over the myriad of tools he left cluttered all over the place, and walked right over to his latest contraption. A girl, a close friend of his, sat in one of the far corners of the room, her nose in a book, and not at all startled by his abrupt entrance. "Hi, Wes." She said, quietly, as always. "Rebecca with you?" Selia Onius had been close friends with Weston since they were small children, and thus, she was quite close to Rebecca as well. In fact, given that Selia's foster parents lived away for most of the year, Rebecca was one of the few adult role-models in Selia's life.

Weston nodded eagerly. "Yeah. Right behind me." He said, a little out of breath from running so fast. "Okay, you know what to do, right? Just like we practised!" She looked up from her book and stared at him blankly. "Okay, so, we didn't actually practice..." He admitted, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Rebecca didn't hear that. "But I explained everything to you yesterday! You know what to do, right?" Selia just sighed lightly, put her book down and walked over to the contraption.

Rebecca would arrive about then, and Weston was more than happy to show her his newest creation; a gauntlet. This was no ordinary gauntlet, however. Not only was it at least five times the width of Selia's arm, dwarfing the poor girl's limb as she delicately worked her forearm into it, but it was covered in gears, tubes and a variety of other things that made it look haphazardly slapped together. "Hi, Rebecca." Selia said, waving with her free hand. She and Weston often worked together on his projects, and this partnership almost always manifested itself as Weston designing and building everything, since Selia didn't understand engineering or mechanics, and Selia being left to test things out, because Weston couldn't use magic.

Weston started explaining his "amplification gauntlet", mentioning things like "conductive lattices" and "tempered glass-work" and all kinds of technobabble like that. Selia didn't understand a word of it, but Rebecca would. His concept was sound, and although his creation looked thrown-together and his schematics were messy, everything worked. In theory, anyway. "It's still just a prototype, though." He said, glancing over his shoulder at Selia and the massive glove she had to keep propped up on a table to prevent herself from falling over. "The finished model would be smaller! Much smaller!" He said, with a nod.

"Okay — Ready?!" HE said, excitedly, looking at Selia. She just nodded and smiled. "Go!" And with that, the young Circite started channelling her energy into the glove, manifesting fire at key points of the hand. The device made a few clunking noises, sputtered, and started humming smoothly. "It's working!" He gasped, in joyous disbelief. "It's really wor-!" Just then, a certain tube burst and fired a jet of steam into the air. "Uh... Wes..?" Said Selia, nervously. "It's fine!" He said, frantically looking around. "It's fine! Just keep going!" He quickly grabbed a wrench and started tightening one of the bolts. The jet began to die down.

"Phew." He said. "See? It's fine!" He slowly started to step back, observing the complicated lattice of metal covering the glove's hand slowly heat up and turn from red to white. His face briefly lit up, only for it to turn to a look of horror as another tube exploded into a jet of boiling steam, and was quickly followed by two others. "Is that fine too?" Asked Selia, sounding a little scared. "No! no! Definitely not fine!" Weston shouted, over the loud hissing of the steam. "Stop the fire, Selia!"

The young caster stops channelling her energy into her hand, and the steam gradually fades away... Only to be replaced by thick, black, noxious smoke. "Wes?" Said Selia. "The glove's getting really hot... And it's not me, anymore! And - and I think my hand is stuck!" She said, sounding very anxious. Weston coughs as he waves the smoke out of his face. "Just try to stay calm!" He urges, not sounding at all calm himself. He walks behind her and tugs with all his might, wrenching her free of the gauntlet, with starts to rumble. "Also not fine!" He shouts. "Run! Run! Everyone out! Run!"

And so, Weston, Rebecca and Selia all flee the young man's worship, chased out by noxious fumes and a threatening, malfunctioning contraption. And just in the nick of time, as well, since a loud explosion rocks the building as soon as Weston shuts the door behind him. "Okay..." He pants. "Combustible adhesive... Let's never, ever, ever risk that ever again..." Cautiously, he reopens the door, leaving a tall pillar of black smoke to waft up into the sky. He sighs heavily, his shoulders drop, and he stares at the ground dejectedly. "I can't do anything right..." He grumbles.

Selia puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You'll get it next time, Wes." She said, sympathetically. "Well, at least you're okay." He said, despondently. "Why do you even hang around me? I'm nothing but trouble." Selia opens her mouth to say something, but Weston just sighs again and shuffles off miserably.

"Looks like Wes is gonna be miserable for a while..." Selia comments, idly, as she watches him shuffle away. She turns to Rebecca after a moment or two. "He'll be fine in a couple hours, but we should still go see him later today. You know how he gets... Oh, and you're okay, aren't you? How do you deal with problems like these?"

Eventually, Niel made it to one of the temples of Weist Town. He didn't consider himself ultra-religious, but he found it good to pray out his worries and thoughts every once and awhile. The temple was circular, carvings of the gods surrounding the walls. Niel knelt before one of them, a god of storms and, by extension, wind, and began to pray. I pray that in the coming days I will finally learn water magic. Please, O storm god, help me along this arduous road. Thank you.

Niel stood up and began to exit the temple. He was really going to do it, then. He was going to try to learn the art of water magic. He'd been thinking about it, wondering, going back and forth in an internal argument with himself about the decision for days, but praying about it, requesting the god of storms for help with it... that sealed the deal.

Niel knew the perfect place to learn water magic - and the perfect person. He was going to see Yinnil 'Yin' Fillid, a very old woman who Niel was sort of friends with. He'd seen her sporadically in the past few years, being bogged down by work and school. However, now he had some free time. Yin was particularly good at water magic. She was sympathetic at Niel's inability to do anything but wind, unlike the rest of the Circites. She was perfect for what he wanted to do. What was more, she lived right down the road from the temple.

edited 21st Jun '12 3:29:48 PM by Collen

Gave them our reactions, our explosions, all that was oursFor graphs of passion and charts of stars...

"Oh," Elios said aloud as he heard an explosion in the distance, "No idea they would send me into a city in the middle of a gang war, or something. They 'prolly want to kill me." With that short musing out of the way, he continued in toward the center of town, where his tavern should be (unless some idiots blew it up earlier).

On his way, he did see what seemed to be a large stage, with many a man working on it. Did he care? No, not really. The locals were probably throwing a "Hoow-Down" or something. He did wonder how they had gotten such expensive looking audio equipment, however.

Now he had reached the entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Sanderssen's Fine Foods—NGNPDAH, where he decided he was going to take a drink and check up on the locals before heading for the inn on the other side of the town. He tied the Auto-Mule to the post, and then walked up the steps. He was able to make out quite a commotion inside. Slowly, he peered into the window. My god, were there so many little peasants crowded around in there!

He slid back, opened the door and looked about for the manager. There was a girl hopping about tables, but he doubted that she owned the place. Elios took one of the only chairs left, and relaxed for the first time in days.

Rebecca looked with sympathy as her good friend walked away, defeat hanging heavy over his shoulders "It's never easy, Selia. The way we walk is one filled with failure and broken dreams... more so than any other I know. But still, we have to remember that every failure brings as much knowledge as a success. When mapping new territory you have to know where not to go after all. And still, a failure does advance our art"

Rebecca opened the door to Weston's workshop a bit wider and tried to get as much smoke out of it as she could "For now lets check and try to deal with the damage... and I'll look over his blueprints before he comes back. I might get an idea or two to reinforce the contraption... Weston tends to go a little too fast when designing something brilliant. The kinks and secondary details tend to suffer a little from it... but figuring those out is something that anyone can do. Not everyone can come up with the ideas he does on the other hand"

"Then... well maybe I'll get to show him something to improve his mood" says Rebecca as she looks over at the cylinder she was carrying around.

"Of course, internal logistics aside, we have yet to address the biggest issue, that of Annilix," Gabriel said, arms resting on the mahogany table.

Before him sat the leaders of the Circium army, his equals, in some ways, his superiors, in others, and his subordinates, in yet more. The general staff had to meet periodically, and with every successive meeting, the issue of Annilix was brought up again and again.

"As the years go by," Gabriel said, "the hostilities between us grow deeper and more bitter. War is brewing, and, I repeat, we must be prepared."

Responses were mixed. Some were war dogs, bred from birth, and they wagged their tails at the opportunity of conflict. Others were more reluctant.

"We have nothing to gain," a general to Gabriel's left said. He was pushing two hundred and remembered older times. "From a practical standpoint, Annilix has essentially scorched their own Earth. The land's barren. There is no national infrastructure to exploit, because they have no nation, and certainly no government to implement any form of organization."

Gabriel nodded. "Fair points, all of them. Yet, these facts remain: our population does not like them. Their population does not like us. If war breaks out, what chance do we have? And, we must not forget—they are all heathens. So long as Heaven does not will their conversion, this conflict is not overtly religious. But, if that changes, war becomes a crusade."

"What's your point, Gabriel?"

Smiling, Gabriel shook his head. "I have none. I would not seek to single-handedly steer the course of this nation. I am just presenting my thoughts for your consideration."

A large, burly man sitting across Gabriel cleared his throat. "Ultimately, the Arch Mages have the final say in this issue. With tensions growing, we need official policy, and we need orders."

There was a murmur of assent across the table.

As the discussion continued, Gabriel maintained his posture—slightly slouched, his forearms resting across the table. There was little he wished to say for the remainder, so he only listened.

The Tower was a truly marvellous structure, one of a tiny handful of free-standing towers in the world, and the tallest by far. Its glorious white exterior shone beautifully in the bright sun, casting a clean, bright light over the city's centre without the usual harsh glare that would accompany such an effect. And on cloudy days like today, its top seemed to rise up to the very heavens and puncture the sky, with its wide observation area and sword-like point sometimes disappearing as low-hanging clouds passed by. It was a source of innumerable myths and legends held by local folklore, a phenomenon only perpetuated by the fact that it was the meeting place of the land's most powerful people. Many believed that the Arch Mages were demi-gods themselves, or, at the very least, that they could commune with the gods directly. The average Circite had heard many tales about the mystical abilities of the tower and those who met within it, the Council of the Arch Mages. To most, it was an awe-inspiring source of inspiration and pride. But to Circe, it was work.

With her long, flowing grey hair strictly tied up in an orderly bun behind her head, she put her hood up and set off for the council chambers. She was early, but then, she usually was. Her traditional mage's robes flowed around her as she strode through the clean, white halls, ignoring the view from any window she passed by. It was nothing she hadn't seen before, and besides, today was cloudy; all she'd see was grey fog. Admittedly, it was an obstacle she could easily overcome, but she really couldn't be bothered with a show-off-y move like dispelling a whole damn cloud just for a plain view of something she'd seem a million times before.

She opened the large, imposing doors to the chambers, quietly shutting them behind her as looked out at the rather sombrely decorated, dimly lit room. She took a few steps forward and snapped her fingers, bringing the enchanted, floating candles to light, and causing the to float up to the high ceiling of the circular room. The room looked a lot less sombre while properly lit, but she still didn't much care for the room. The chairs, all three of them, were made of some fancy wood, like mahogany, a decorated ornately, like the thrones of modest kings. She found them somewhat tacky, but at least they were comfortable. The candles, on the other hand, were just silly. One day she'd have to bother getting a proper chandelier installed, or something.

Selia coughed a little bit as more smoke escaped Weston's workshop, causing the pillar of smoke rising out of it to grow thicker and taller. "I hope you're right, Rebecca." She said, waving the smoke out of her face. "I really hate to see him all upset like that..." Cautiously, she peers into the scorched workshop, then retreats as the smoke stings her nose and eyes.

"Can you do something about that smoke?" She coughs. "I would help if I could, but..." She shrugs. Although her specialization in Elemental Fire Magic often proved extremely useful to Weston and his experiments, she often found that there were many everyday situations where not having much in the way of conventional Arcane skills proved inconvenient. At any rate, going into a little, smoke-filled building was probably a bad idea, given her heart condition...

"I think I'll go find a window to open, or something..." She said, briefly looking around before something caught her eye. "Hey, that's new." She said, motioning to Rebecca's cylinder. "Is that what you're going to show Wes? What is it?" She said, eyes wide with curiosity.

Ferrus threw on his armor, pipes running steam from his chestplate to the strength servos and the engines that enhanced his natural strength. He was about to finish fastening his boots, when a small booming noise or somesuch rocked him to the ground! Good lord, someone was in trouble! He finished fastening the armor together, strapped his sword to his waist and his shield to his left arm, and barreled down the hall to the dining room. Halfway across towards the door, a flick of his fingers ignited the throttle in his power armor, launching Ferrus towards the door—and suddenly became a lot less epic when, in an attempt to prevent further Door Insurance Deposits, Ferrus skid to a halt, opened the door carefully, and closed it behind him. Still trailing steam and chugging like a train.

Then, free on the streets, Ferrus spotted the column of smoke signalling his destination. He ran through the streets, shouldering aside or trampling anyone in his way, headed to rescue whoever needed rescuing! Perhaps his mystery nemesis would be there too!

"Can I open eyes yet?" Varlam was sitting in a little workshop at the end of a smaller street. It was by no means an impressive or famous workshop, in fact it had been running on a teetering risk of having to shut down for quite some time now, but it always seemed to pull through one way or another. The sign simply read, Vasilios' handy contraptions.

It was run by a friendly, little old man whose last name was Vasilios, and everyone simply called him that. Varlam had been working there part time for a few weeks, and had arrived to tell Vasilios that he was planning to leave Takei soon, and asked if he could have his payment for the work he'd done. Vasilios agreed, and gave Varlam the money, then told Varlam to sit down and close his eyes for a surprise.

As Varlam waited, he could hear Vasilios moving about. There was a sound of a little case opening, and then a few moments later Varlam felt something get put on his face, settling down on his ears and nose. "Okay, you can open your eyes now" Vasilios said.

Varlam did so, and looked around at the workshop in clear sharpness for the second time in his life; the first time had been about a week ago, when he tried putting on some spectacles Vasilios was making for a customer. "Wow! It is all clear! This is for me?" Varlam said, smiling joyously as he looked around at the various contraptions the workshop had to offer. He looked back at Vasilios, and thought for a moment. "How much is it?" he asked, reaching into his pocket for the money Vasilios had just given him.

Vasilios smiled and held up a hand. "It's a gift, boy. I meant to give it to you at the end of the week with your paycheck, but if you're leaving sooner then it has to be now" Vasilios answered, putting his hand back down.

Varlam looked thoughtful for a moment, feeling like he should owe Vasilios something for this. Then an idea came to him, and with a determined smile, he pulled out the money anyway. "I wanna buy last gadget I made!" Varlam declared, offering the cash to a somewhat surprised Vasilios.

A minute later, Varlam was standing at the entrance of the workshop, strapping a contraption to his right forearm. It was a rectangular metal box just a bit smaller than his forearm, with a three-fingered metal hand-like attachment at the front. Vasilios had Varlam make it as a helpful tool for elderly folk to grab things at a distance, but Varlam knew that with some tweaking he could use it for more than that. "So remind me, how soon are you leaving?" Vasilios asked, watching from just inside.

"Soon. Just one more stop" Varlam answered, finally finished getting the straps at just the right tightness. "I'm going to park now, goodbye Vasilios!" he yelled back, waving as he took off down the street in a run.

Vasilios nodded and went back to his workbench. Then, his eyes widened a little. "Wait, did he say he's going to the park?.. No no, I... I must have misheard him" Vasilios muttered, going back to work to get his mind off of it.

Varlam kept running through the streets, a hopeful expression on his face as he made his way towards the park at the corner of the city he heard about. What he had heard specifically was muttered rumors about a witch from Circium staying there, mostly consisting of her doing indecent acts or dark rituals. The consensus amongst most of the rumor spreaders was that she should go back to Circium at best, or be publicly executed at worst. Varlam didn't really care about that; he just wanted to know if it was true, if there really was someone from Circium all the way here in Takei. He had questions he wanted to ask about Circium.

The closer he got, the thinner the crowds seemed to get, until finally there was practically nobody around at all. He rounded one last corner, and headed straight for the park.

Ferrus' antics had not gone unnoticed by the local authorities, however. Unlike the cities of Anilix, the Border towns did have a police force, of sorts — more of a Neighbourhood Watch-type organization in comparison to Circium's police, Border police forces comprised entirely of local townsfolk; dedicated volunteers working with strained resources to keep some semblance of order. Regardless, Ferrus' self-made dispatching of justice against the thief who attempted to steal his armour had caught the attention of the local chief. Vigilantism was always a problem, especially on the Anilix side of things, but it was not every day that a petty thief came in coughing blood all over the place because of a punctured lung and a broken nose.

They had been negotiating a deal with the thief when the man himself came barrelling down the street like a lunatic. Since it was early in the morning, the streets were not crowded; just a few sleepy citizens either setting up shop or simply going for a walk in the peaceful morning air. Weston's little mishap had caused some curiosity, but not very much, as explosions were fairly common between him and Rebecca. Ferrus charging through the streets in mechanized armour, on the other hand, quickly caused a commotion.

Terrified people screamed and leaped aside in an effort to get away from the mechanized man barrelling down the road. This was far more excitement that little Weist Town was used to. Men, women and the occasional small child were swept aside by Ferrus' shouldering; carts, stands and crates alike were smashed in his mad dash, either by the man himself or by the people diving out of his way. In an effort to halt the madness, the local police force formed a line in his path, hoping to block him from charging any further.

"Alright, if he doesn't stop by, uh, that post right there," Said the Circite lieutenant to his five fellow policemen and women, a mix of Anilixians and Circites. "Then we'll bring up a wall of Arcane Energy. If he gets past that, Team 2 will blast him with the hose! And if he gets past that... Gods help us all. We'll hit him with everything we've got." The policemen nodded, but were evidently quite nervous. They were neither mechanical geniuses nor exceptionally powerful mages, and they certainly weren't accustomed to handling this kind of behaviour.

Ferrus approaches from a short distance away. "STOP RIGHT THERE, CRIMINAL SCUM!" Shouts the lieutenant.

"Just a little something I've been working on for a while. If it does work, it should prove to be the distraction Weston needs right now" said Rebecca as she smiled lightly. She then proceeded to use multiple methods to clear the smoke from the workshop. First, she dropped a few magical crystals in the floor, which started to absorb the smoke from around them. Then she opened all windows and began to cast a simple wind spell... so that the air would flow from one window and go out by the next one in a gust, carrying outside the remaining smoke.

Takei - Anilix - Morning

Aileen held her breath as with practiced ease the thin brush drew on the finer details of today's body paint. Every day, before setting out into the world from her home, Aileen complemented the dark tattoos on her skin with personalized etchings, runes and drawings on her tan skin.

The tattoos represented the most immutable aspects of her life. Her name, her ancestry, her tribe, her culture, her nature and her rank as a Sorceress. The body paint were things which came and went with time, the seasons, the rise and set of the sun.

When her proclamation for the day was finally finished and dry, Aileen allowed herself to smile slightly... something she had barely done since arriving at this wretched city. Still, she must steel her heart and continue on with her work.

She dressed lightly, as she usually did, and grabbed at her staff as she walked towards the door. After that, it was a short walk until she reached the park.

Ferrus yanked back on his throttle, skidding to a halt as he brought his shield up in defense. "Look, I know you're trying to do your job, but people could really be hurt over there, there's been some kind of fire or explosion! This is also a great opportunity to catch the other vigilante in the act, since he'd also be interested in helping out there. If you let me go now, you may catch me and the other guy later. You see why it'd be advantageous for you to open up this barricade?"

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